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Lucifel604
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Name: Wil
Birthday: 3/9/1984
Gender: Male
Interests: Martial Arts (Wing Chun and Taichi esp.), drawing, writing, cars
Expertise: I am the KING of BS!!! AKA. King of "blowing water"
Message: message me
Member Since:
8/1/2004
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| Summer's over. The sun's probably going to be gone in a couple weeks and then the rain's going to set in. Before we know it, it'll be Halloween. I wonder if I'm too old to trick or treat and not look like a pedophile... | | |
| What's the deal with people posting all these cliche words of wisdom? Most of them make me gag with the force fed new-age meets old-age bull that sterotypical "higher educated" people seem to so attracted to now, attracted like fly to the mannure it is. If being on construction sites have taught me anything, it's that nothing is given to you on a silver platter, because if it is was, then it's probably easily taken away. What make's a person strong? Be tolerant to one another? Give me a break. Seemingly philosophical questions don't make anyone strong. Coming to work, day in and day out, putting up with grime and shit so you and your family can survive, and then doing it with a smile, that's strength. Live it, and you'll know. Tolerence is great. So is patience. But don't say it. Do it. People talk to much. Shut up and lead by example. | | |
| Women are so irrational. I'm sure there are exceptions but on the whole, they're a crazy lot that are completely unpredictable. Nothing they do makes any sense whatsoever. They're unbelievabley frustrating. With something you can kind of understand, well... you can kinda of understand. There's at least something to stand on, some solid ground of some sort. With women? Nothing. Nothing at all. | | |
| I passed my year 1 apprenticeship exam today!!! You know what that means? I'm offically a year one apprentice carpenter as of now! Anyhow I'm went drinking with my classmates at the campus pub in the middle of the day after the exam and I'm a little drunk. Later. | | |
| You know what I miss? Playing rugby in the rain. I used to hate it, but oddly enough, now I look back on it with an air of nostalgia. Everything seemed so clear. We'd walk onto the field and we'd know what to do. Strength and honor. The mud, the cold, nothing seemed to matter, just go for the ball and run with it until my chest feels like it's about to collapse and then run some more. Trust the man next to you to carry the ball when you fall and then run some more. Things don't seem so simple anymore. You'd worry about health, future, money, career, all the adult things that at one point you thought would simply be there. So naive. I guess that's what being a kid's about, and it guess it's also what being an adult is about. Being an adult, running with the ball and having to worry. Being a kid and running with a ball without a care in the world. I think everyone has a moment in their lives wishing that time would stop because things seem perfect at that point. The moment just before your slam that ball onto the ground, scoring a try, a point, a goal. That sense of accomplishment. But the time can't stop. It ticks on bringing you closer or farther away from where you want to be. Tick. Tick. Tick. Everyone has 24 hours in a day. Where does it all go? Most of us wear watches. It counts the minutes as they go by. | | |
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